Corrupted: The Demon and The Doll
by GrimTheBanette
Summary: She was beautiful, her body and mind flawless, but like a porcelain doll her innocence was fragile... and easily shattered by his darkness. He was cold, his body and fur like the icy embrace of the grave, but even this demon longed to bathe in the warmth of her light...and he would have her, even if he had to break her to do so.
1. Chapter 1: The Curse

Noland McCalister paced, irritant, in the square. A crowd had gathered around the stone stage he stood upon. It was not every day, after all, that the head of the local church called for a public execution. The priest looked up with a sharp glare as a pair of guards, a lucario and a blaziken, entered the space. Between them was the felon, an elderly gothitelle who had lived on the town's outskirts for years… Just outside the Whispering Wood. The old woman had threatened the priest, openly cursing his name and the ground he walked on, and had promptly been found guilty for dealing with dark spirits. As the old hag was forced to her knees, her neck on the chopping block, Noland walked up with a sneer.

"Any last words?" he asked calmly, a grim satisfaction in his voice. The woman laughed bitterly, glaring up at him with a toothy smile.

"Aye. A curse on ya, McCalister. A curse that yer daughter dance with a devil on her eighteenth birthday. May she burn with me when her time comes!" The gothitelle shouted with a sneer.

"Enough!" Noland shouted, gesturing to the axeman. The aggron nodded, swinging his axe. There was a muffled 'thump' and the hag was silenced forevermore.

(18 years later)

Freya stood quietly at the end of the path through town, her eyes locked on the dark forest a few yards ahead. She had heard the rumors, the legends that the old forest was a playground for dark spirits. Townsfolk claimed that on the new moon, one could hear whispers floating on the quiet breeze from the ancient forest. Thus, the old trees were dubbed 'The Whispering Wood'. The stories claimed that many a man had tried to pacify the forest, or cut it back, but all of them had vanished within, and were never seen again.

The young glaceon swallowed. Ever since her tenth birthday, she had felt drawn to something in the woods. She hadn't been afraid of the forest, the trees seeming like silent sentinels defending the last safe haven of nature in the area. But even Freya couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of foreboding that came from those ancient woods. The trees themselves seemed tainted, their bark as dark as ash with nettles of a dark, grayish-green. The wood didn't seem evil, but sick. It seemed to her like something within had long since poisoned the very land the forest rested on.

The girl was jolted from her reverie as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she found her father gazing down at her, the espeon seeming tired.

"You should be wary of those woods child." Noland spoke softly. Freya only nodded as her father turned on his way to the cathedral. Slowly, she returned to gazing at the trees. Hours later, she could stand it no longer. She had to find whatever was drawing her in. Mustering her courage, she slowly walked forward, and entered the dark forest, unintentionally setting in motion a series of events that would send her life tumbling like dominos until there was nothing left for her to lose. Like a porcelain doll, her world was falling, and was destined to shatter if no one intervened. As she walked, a pair of ruby eyes followed, their owner smiling in wicked interest.


	2. Chapter 2: Wild Spirit

**Finally updating this... wow :D i'm excited today :3**

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><p>He remembered those days all to well. How could he not? His mother had done her best to raise him on her own after his father had passed, and he had done his best not to be a difficult child. She loved him, as a mother should, and he was happy. Then he had evolved. He had evolved at night, and his dark fur and crimson eyes had gotten him branded as a demon. His once caring mother hadn't lifted a finger to stop them from dragging him away to be 'purified'.<p>

He had managed to escape his fate, fleeing to the one place no one would ever follow him, The Whispering Wood. That had been…. Years? Decades? He had lost track long ago. The old forest had an odd way of causing that. With a sigh he stood from his resting place in the arms of the old ones, the trees that stood guard of the forest's heart. Something had happened to him that first night in the wood, an indescribable surge of energy had flowed through him, and he had never felt quite the same. He felt free, invincible.

The truth was, he had become exactly what those fools had accused him of being. The wild spirits of the forest, the so-called 'demons', had somehow made him one of their number. As he hopped down to the forest floor, he turned to the trees and thanked them for their hospitality over the night. They did not answer in voice, but a gentle breeze wafted by carrying gentle whispers from countless 'mouths'.

It was odd, that mysterious voice of the forest. It less heard, and more felt deep within the soul. It carried a sense of power and wisdom. The umbreon smiled at the ancient tress, resting a hand on the trunk of the nearest one before setting off. Walking through the old wood was his favorite, and really only, pass-time.

On his walk, he heard something different. It was the telltale crashing of an intruder. Of all the spirits, none of them made discernable noise as they moved through the forest. Their steps, like his, were careful and done with practiced ease. This allowed them to move silently and avoid the many gnarled roots of the trees.

Following the sound, he soon came across a young glaceon wandering the woods. She immediately bewitched him. Her form was draped in a flowing white dress, but he could still see that she was a model female in every way. She struck him as fragile, likely having led a sheltered life.

He followed her in silence, his crimson eyes drinking in everything about her. Her movements were dainty, and she seemed nervous. It was understandable in the silence of the Whispering Wood, and he had been the same on that first day. He couldn't stop the warmth that began to spread through his otherwise icy form. He had not felt such desire in years…. Not since his early twenties. It was decided in his mind. He would have her…. At any cost.

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><p><strong>So, remember to leave a review with your opinion :3 hope you enjoyed.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Big Bad Wolf

**Hey folks! I'm not dead :D**

**Freya: Yes you are... you're a ghost type.**

**Me: quiet you .**

**So, sorry for the long break for this story... and all the others... haven't had a lot of time to write, and i wanted to do this one just right... so... tell me what ya think?**

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><p>Freya was silent. She felt as though speaking would have been a transgression on the deep silence that seemed to rule over the old woods. Even the simple act of her breathing felt too loud and out of place. She had been through forests before, on trips with her father, and those places had been filled with the sounds of life. The only sound Freya could pick up here was a barely audible whisper on the slight breeze, so quiet it almost seemed like it wasn't even there. And it was cold. Not the typical kind of cold where you could just pull on a coat and feel better. No, this cold ran deep, right down to her bone. It was the kind of chill that was said to accompany spirits. She shivered at the thought.<p>

She had been walking in a straight line for almost an hour, and had seen nothing other than trees. Except, as she had turned some time ago to head home, she had found the area behind her had changed completely. She was lost.

As she walked, Freya had the eerie feeling that she was being watched. Even when she sped up her pace, crashing through the low undergrowth loudly, the presence seemed to follow… and it got colder around her.

Suddenly, she ran into someone, the other person letting out a quiet 'oof' as the two of them fell. Freya was relieved to feel the other presence recede. As she turned, she found a hand offered to her. She took it gratefully, and was helped to her feet.

"Thank you." She said softly, a bit embarrassed about running into the other.

"No problem." Came a chuckled reply.

The voice was decidedly male, and as Freya turned back to this stranger, her fear returned. He was an umbreon, the night incarnate. His fur was a dark jet, black enough to contend with a moonless night, and his crimson eyes seemed to stare right through her. But his rings, by Arceus, his rings were a beautiful blue that gave off a soft light to the area around him. She was shaken from her thoughts as he spoke.

"What's a girl like you doing alone in these woods?" He asked, a hint of mirth in his voice. Freya wasn't certain she should tell him, as by all accounts of her father this was a demon, but he was her only hope of getting home.

"I-i… I was curious about the wood, so I came to explore… but I got lost…" She stammered out nervously. His expression became grim, a cruel glint in his eye.

"Well, little lamb, it seems you've found the big bad wolf." He stated coldly. Freya took a step back, almost falling as he spoke. She jumped with a little 'yip' as he burst into warm, admittedly cute, laughter, his cheerful expression returning.

"Sorry about that, I couldn't resist. Anyway, I'm not surprised you're lost…. The trees move, a few of them anyway…" He said with a warm smile. Freya was utterly perplexed by this strange boy. Yes, as a demon his presence set her on edge but…. He was genuinely friendly and cheerful. Not intimidating at all. She was brought back to reality as he continued.

"I'm sure I can help you home… which village are you from?" He asked softly, tilting his head.

"I live in Oakendale." She stated with relief. Her joy, however, was short lived. As soon as the name left her lips, his cheerful demeanor vanished. He stiffened and sneered at her.

"Oh, I know the way alright. C'mon." He stated flatly, stalking past her. Freya shuddered as his side brushed her… he was cold as ice. Turning, she was forced to jog to keep up, and he didn't once look back to see if she was following.

"H-hey! Slow down!" she called to him. He gave no vocal acknowledgment, but he did slow his pace a bit.

"So… where are you from?" Freya asked quietly, trying to make conversation.

"Don't want to talk about it." Was his flat reply. Freya would make two more attempts at talking before finally giving up.

Once the duo reached the edge of the forest, the umbreon turned to her and made a slight jerking motion with his head toward her village.

"There ya go." He stated coldly, turning to leave.

"Thank you….?" She started, fishing for a name. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder.

"Damon." Was the ever flat reply. She nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'm Freya. I hope to see you again Damon… we could be friends." She spoke with a slight smile. At that, his cheerful demeanor returned slightly, and he flashed her a lop-sided smile.

"I doubt we'll be meeting up again… unless you have a habit of getting lost, Little Lamb." And with that chuckled remark, he was gone. Freya was left with a faint blush at the playful nickname, and hurried home to a no doubt waiting lecture from her father.

Damon watched from the shadows, grinning as he thought.

"It's high time Oakendale had visit from our neck of the woods…" he whispered with a toothy smile. With that, he returned to the embrace of those ancient trees, whispered approval following all the way.

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><p><strong>So, good? Bad? God-awful? Lemme know my dear readers, i love hearing from you :D<strong>

**Damon: It's true, he loves attention.**

**Me: o/o stahp!**


	4. Placeholder

**wow... it has been a long time hasn't it... sorry about that everyone. I'may writing thus to let you guys know that i'm not dead. And, as such, I will try and update my work soon, though I can't make any promises. Please bare with me, as I have had a lot going on here at home. Hopefully, i'll be able to get back into the swing of things before long.**


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